


Made for the Moment

by EntreNous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Doppelganger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment of crisis, Severus Snape learns Albus Dumbledore left nothing to chance, not even the existence of Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made for the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for May 2010 Daily Deviant for the theme "androids".

Along the walls of the Headmaster's office, portraits dozed and snored. Severus Snape sat slumped behind the desk during a rare moment of utter quiet and solitude, his head in his hands. He felt weary to his bones. Terrible times lay behind and worse yet to come, with no relief in sight until the final end.

"If there was something," he muttered, trailing off. But no, nothing more to do just then, nothing anyone could do. Various plots he crafted waited to unfurl, hundreds of safety nets of his weaving stood at the ready, but there existed no other method of surreptitious help he might set into motion for now.

As small consolation, he knew Potter slept safely tonight, no doubt a little appreciated break between seemingly endless reckless adventures and tireless sprinting toward every last wrong turn. Still, The Boy Who Lived was likely to live through the night at the very least. That was all the reassurance Severus might take.

He breathed out noisily, closing his eyes. If ever there was a time he could use a small measure of comfort, it was now. He would get none, of course; nothing in the world could help him tonight.

"Is this the moment?" a voice said. "Am I needed?"

Severus stumbled out of the chair to his feet. However obviously startled his posture revealed him, at least he gripped his wand surely even before he had fully opened his eyes. Now he pointed it at the intruder he espied in the shadows and demanded, "Show yourself!"

The trespasser stepped forward. A boy. No, a young man. Ridiculous Muggle clothing, slim build, black mussed hair, and behind his glasses, arresting green eyes --

"You utter fool," Severus hissed to Potter. His small grain of peace in knowing Potter safe that night splintered inside him, needling his nerves. "Come for a moment of blustering, selfish revenge, have you? Don't you comprehend your energies and efforts are required elsewhere?"

"Revenge?" Potter had the gall to look bewildered as he pushed his glasses up his nose, an achingly familiar gesture. Severus knew too well Harry Potter's every motion and tic; the knowledge came standard with seven years of watching him to ensure his well-being. None of those prior years held a candle to these past months for obsessive surveillance and constant mindfulness of Potter, however. It now felt as vital and urgent as taking breath: he tracked Potter's every move and acted at every moment to aid Potter's cause in secret.

And now the very man stood in front of him, as though there weren't legions who wanted him dead, as if Severus hadn't spent his every energy and thought devoted to keeping him animate -- at least, until he was needed. Severus felt a wellspring of reactions surge upward inside of him, whether from the awful understanding Albus had imparted, that Potter lived only to die at the last, or from the defiant presence of the young man in front of him, this incontestable proof that Harry Potter held the life Severus had painstakingly protected so carelessly.

"What in blazes are you doing here?" Severus roared. "Have you abandoned your idiot friends to the Death Eaters hunting the lot of you? Forgotten your mission to which Professor Dumbledore assigned you?"

"He said I was to wait here," Potter blurted. "That I would know, when the moment, when I --"

A horrible feeling roiled Severus's gut. Polyjuice. It was not only possible, but should have been anticipated. This imposter, as it now seemed he was based on his confusion, must have positioned himself in wait at the bequest of another. How much time they had before his fellow conspirators joined him, Merlin only knew.

"Who are you?" Severus barked.

"Harry Potter." The young man gave him a half-smile. "Er, sort of."

Before he could say another word, Severus thundered, " _Incarcerous_!"

The word _Expelliarmus_ was clearly on the boy's lips, but it was no use. He stood bound before Severus, breathing hard, unbalanced by the ropes strapped around his limbs.

"Think you can disarm me so easily?" Severus asked in a low voice. "It seems something Potter would try in the circumstances." He walked forward enough to kick Potter's wand -- the intruder's wand -- underneath a table. "And using his signature spell as well; it's as though you've taken your motions from a manual."

"I need to talk to you," the false Potter managed even as he struggled in his bonds. He lurched forward until he made contact with the wall, and leaned there.

"When I know who you are in an hour hence, we'll see what you have to say then." With that, Severus cast a silent _Mobilicorpus_ , transporting the young man's body into a small chamber where he sometimes slept. It wouldn't do to have the portraits involved and offering input before Severus knew who exactly had slipped inside the Headmaster's quarters, and what precisely he intended by imitating Harry Potter. Meanwhile, Severus would seek out and disarm his fellow schemers and secure the castle boundaries.

 

 

***~***

 

 

A through search of the castle and its grounds yielded absolutely no evidence of intruders.

After returning to his office, Severus's brief conference with Phineas Nigellus Black confirmed at least part of what he suspected.

It should not have been completely surprising, then, that Severus returned to the chamber adjacent to his office an hour and fifteen minutes later to find his conjuring spell still entrapping a young man who looked the very image of Harry Potter.

Severus conjured a chair, placing it opposite where his captive sat slumped on the bed.

For a time, neither of them said anything. Severus sat with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled against his lips.

Finally, the young man looked up. Severus gazed at those clear green eyes, but he could find no obvious evidence of guile or malice. Further, when he attempted a mild and unspoken _Legilimens_ , he met with nothing but a sense of curiosity and a desire to do -- something, exactly what it was not clear. If his subject was Occluding, he was quite skilled at the practice, itself a revelation as to his identity.

"Let us try this once more," Severus began. "Your name?"

"I told you," the young man said. He bit his lip before speaking again. "I'm Harry Potter, sort of, but --"

"I have consulted with a reliable source who tells me Harry Potter lies asleep at this very moment," Severus interrupted him. "Further, my means of, let us say _reading_ your intentions demonstrates you are not who you say you are."

"But I _am_ , at least --"

Severus tried a different tack. "Were you attempting to take my life when you entered the other room?"

"No!" The young man looked, strangely enough, upset at this question.

"Hmm. What was your intention, then?"

"To help."

Severus snorted. "In what way?"

"I don't know exactly." Now the lad looked positively miserable.

"I haven't the time for this," Severus muttered.

"When he left, he said I was to trust you, you and Harry Potter, and that when the time came when I was needed, I would understand, and I could do something --"

"Wait." Severus held up a hand. "Who told you these things about being needed and who you might trust?"

"Professor Dumbledore."

At this Severus stared hard at him, but the young man simply blinked and waited. This was not Harry Potter, obviously. Nor was it an obvious imposter, at least not someone attempting the sham through a known method such as Polyjuice. No, it was a young man who looked exactly like Harry Potter, who felt he was Harry Potter, or at least claimed some degree of that identity, who appeared to think he had spoken with Albus Dumbledore --

"Dear God," Severus said softly. He shifted forward. "Are you -- where did you -- how did he --" He stopped abruptly and stared.

"I don't understand what you're asking," the young man replied.

Severus took a sharp breath and stood at once, turning and pacing to the end of the small room. "Albus Dumbledore really left nothing to chance, did he?" He pivoted to face his hostage. "You are some kind of -- machine, are you?"

The young man's brow furrowed. "I don't think so."

Severus walked to him and pinched his arm sharply.

"Hey!"

With a grimace, Severus dug his fingers into the sinews of his prisoner's arm. Beads of blood surfaced where his fingernails had pierced the skin. He jerked his head up to find those green eyes watching him.

"That hurts," the young man whispered.

"Dear God," Severus repeated. He dropped his hand and backed away. One lamb for the slaughter wasn't enough, apparently. Or at least, Dumbledore didn't have the blind faith in Harry which he claimed to possess. If this double or whatever he was knew he had been created to stand as an alternative sacrifice, he had not so far displayed that knowledge. Perhaps he truly did share the same ignorance of his eventual fate as his twin.

"You nearly cast an _Expelliarmus_ ," Severus remembered. "You can do magic?"

"Yes."

At that Severus rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. No doubt Albus had trained him -- or created him with certain amounts of knowledge.

"But you did not wish to harm me."

"No. Like I said --"

"Silence." Severus reached him in two strides, pushing back the messy fringe to show the mirror of Harry Potter's scar on the young man's forehead.

"Your time has not yet come," Severus said quietly. He let his hand fall. "I imagine it need not come at all." For all of the actual Harry Potter's bumbling and arrogance, Severus believed he likely would return at the appropriate time to perform his duty.

"But I felt -- I woke --"

Severus sat heavily beside him on the bed. "From where?"

The young man shrugged, though his action was limited by his bindings.

"Some place besides Hogwarts?"

"I -- no. Here."

"Have you been here, somehow hidden, all this time?"

The boy gave another bite to his lower lip. "I've been here for some time, but how long exactly I can't say."

"In these offices," Severus clarified.

"Yes. Ever since -- well, he left, Professor Dumbledore, but he said that when the time came, I would know. He put me into -- it was like a half-dream, he said, and when I was needed, I would awake."

"You were wrong." Severus hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, and let his head fall into his hands once again. "He was wrong. You have arrived at a time when you are neither wanted nor needed."

"But then why --"

Severus exhaled. " _Finite Incantum_."

The young man rubbed his arms as the ropes fell away and disintegrated.

"We'll find some way of sending you -- wherever you came from," Severus said. That the procedure would undoubtedly destroy the redundancy of Harry's double seemed too troublesome to declare. "You seem to intend no harm, and it is very late. Tomorrow, then, I shall find what to do with you."

A beat passed. Then Severus felt a tentative touch to his shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, shrugging it off.

"But I do want to help," the young man whispered. "Can't I help somehow?" He slid his hand back, surer now, rubbing at the tight muscles of Severus's neck.

"Stop it." The words came with far less strength than Severus intended. The last time he had been touched by someone -- in all honesty, he couldn't recall it. And yet the fact of some conjured soldier created for the purpose of surrendering his life in place of another at the proper time massaging Severus Snape's shoulders seemed patently absurd.

He did not move, however. Instead he let his eyes fall closed.

Careful hands stroked and pressed along his upper back, as the slight shift of the mattress indicated the young man had positioned himself behind Severus.

Severus turned his head to find his masseur observing him with keen interest.

"I think you're the one who is wrong. I can help," his visitor murmured. With that he eased himself around until he could climb over Severus, kneeling with his legs astride him. After adjusting his frame he sat back lightly on Severus's thighs and resumed his careful caresses, now focused on the front of Severus's shoulders.

The bizarre aspect to the situation became so palpable that Severus nearly laughed aloud. "Surely you cannot have been fashioned for such a purpose as this."

"For anything, really," the reply came in a whisper. "For everything. For what is needed of me. For you."

Severus had brought his hands to rest on the boy's sides without his realizing it. As he began to pull back, the young man shook his head. "No."

"No?"

Those green eyes searched his. Whatever they found seemed to satisfy the question in his mind, for the young man reached and secured Severus's arm around his waist. When Severus did not immediate withdraw, drawing a ragged breath instead, this double of Harry's gave him a small smile.

The entire situation was outrageous. Severus had only not stood and stormed away because of the obvious shock of this discovery. For what could be expected of a man in his position, exhausted and close to breaking not only at this moment but so many times this past year? A man who had nothing to look forward to but death, not merely his own but that of the young man his life's purpose had been to protect? Was it any wonder what a tenuous, fragile thing his power of resistance now was?

He tried one last time to pull away, but his captive had turned captor now, his slim arms holding Severus close. Severus's heart beat a hastened tattoo, and he felt a singular rush of relief and longing at having Harry, or at least this not-Harry, alive and safe and close.

"I --" he tried.

His companion made soothing sounds, stroking his back.

"I spend all my time thinking about you," Severus whispered, his voice hoarse. "I wake and think only of you. I sleep with thoughts of you. All I do, all I am is entirely devoted to you."

The confession prompted the other man to rest his cheek against Severus's. "Let me give you what you need," he murmured.

Severus's assent took the form of drawing back only slightly, of grasping that so-familiar stubborn set of Harry's chin gently in his hand so that he could brush their lips together.

For all his initial care, though, the time was too dangerous and Severus too desperate for the contact to remain tender and calm long. He tried to resist, but Harry seemed swept up in the same frantic impulse. When he kissed Severus back, all the recklessness and passion Severus had witnessed in him time and again came forward: in the fevered press of his lips, in the surrender of his mouth opening under Severus's, in the muffled needy sounds he made.

Severus didn't stop to think about what this Harry was when he pulled off Harry's shirt, wrenched the buttons to his denim jeans open, and sent his glasses skittering along the floor below them. He didn't take the time to contemplate how this Harry had come to exist, of what materials Albus had made him, when he felt his robes tear as Harry pushed them off too roughly or when he nuzzled and sucked Harry's smooth neck.

"Christ, I want you," he panted as he licked and bit his way down Harry's torso, as he rubbed his cheek against that rosy hardening cock.

"Yes," Harry gasped as Severus slid his lips tightly down and up his prick. "Oh god, please, yes," he whimpered when Severus palmed his smooth balls and trailed a finger back farther to tease at his entrance.

A quick grope at the side table for the oil Severus sought, and almost immediately, though nowhere near soon enough, he had Harry pushing back against his fingers, arching his back and gripping the bedclothes with white knuckles.

Severus hushed Harry's pained cry when he slid inside, kissed away the tears that wet his cheeks, and waited with gritted teeth.

"Yes, now," Harry managed finally, and Severus eased Harry's legs to hook over his shoulders as he thrust.

The tension thrumming through him the past months, the constant worry and surveillance, the anxious maintenance of his postured identity -- all of it came undone, unfurled as he drove into Harry harder and harder. Harry worked his hips to meet him, rocking under him with small grunts, yanking him forward with a clacking of their teeth until their lips found their meeting place.

When Harry threw his head back and came with a surprised cry, Severus felt the spasms rush up from the base of his spine through his body, buzzing along every last nerve as he dug his toes into the mattress and pushed forward one last time.

Their breathing slowed together, until Severus pulled off Harry to collapse at his side.

Severus felt his eyes close in a moment of genuine rest and relaxation. Harry turned toward him and stretched his arm across his chest.

Severus had just lifted his arm to caress him in return when he felt the Mark along his arm burn.

"I must leave," he muttered as he rose and immediately dressed.

Harry pushed himself up on his arms, sitting up and leaning over the bed to fumble for his glasses. "What can I do?" He pushed the frames onto his face and ran a hand through his hair.

The Mark flared again, and though Severus could not divine its message completely, there was no question in his mind what moment was upon them. "You must stay here."

"What? No! I'm meant to help you."

"I won't allow you," Severus snarled at him. "At least I will protect you."

He pulled his robes to him as he dashed out to the office, casting the charms to lock Harry inside the chamber. The sealing of the door cut off the sound of Harry's protests.

Though he could not rescue Harry Potter from his inevitable tangle with the Dark Lord, he could save this Harry.

 

 

***~***

 

 

As Severus Snape felt his head hit the floor of the Shrieking Shack he listened to the welcome sounds of Harry Potter retreating. Though it had been necessary to pass along his memories, the disjuncture of seeing those green eyes -- the same green eyes that Harry, _his_ Harry, had -- disturbed more than comforted him.

Now as he strained to listen for the sounds of conflict and battle outside, the greying at the edges of his vision felt almost welcome. Harry Potter had gone to watch Severus's memories and, finally, to die. For Severus, there was no further obligation now, nothing for him now, really, but that final rest.

The air around him became thick, and he shut his eyes against the waves of gloom washing over him.

"Is this the moment?" There was a voice behind him, muffled and slow as though it was blocked in its travels by the encroaching haze. Severus could barely make out the next words. "Am I needed?"

"Blasted boy --" he tried, but he lacked the air in his lungs to finish the sentence. He sank under the oppressive weight of darkness.

 

 

***~***

 

 

Light swept over him, and Severus flinched away from it. He had hoped for nothing more than eternal sleep after a troubled life; it seemed cruel that the after-life would involve such things as daylight and waking.

"Severus," a voice said.

He opened his eyes.

The cheerful surroundings of a small bedroom greeted him, as did the hopeful face of Harry Potter hovering above him.

No, not Harry Potter. Not really.

"Where --"

"It's a small cottage. In Wales, I think."

Severus breathed out slowly, trying not to initiate the internal process of wondering how his Harry recognized a cottage, understood where Wales might be, or had managed to transport them there.

"I got the potions from your store before I ran out to find you. You'll need some time to recover, but --" Harry smiled at him in relief.

"How did you know what would -- which potions --"

"Sssh, don't try to speak." Harry smoothed Severus's hair back from his face, and leaned down to brush his lips over Severus's forehead. "He didn't die, you know. Harry Potter. He lived at the end, and he won."

Severus opened his mouth to ask how that had occurred, but then shut it again. Albus had led him to believe -- but then, how little had Albus told him? One of the most blatant examples of the extent of his secrecy was, after all, currently smoothing the coverlet over Severus's chest.

"There are plenty of supplies here, and a house elf who says she can get us more. We don't have to tell anyone where we are, or have anyone bother us." Harry fussed over him for a moment as he hesitated. "That is, I mean -- if you want me --"

In response, Severus stretched out his arm, patting the mattress. He could feel sleep coming on again as Harry settled down next to him.

"You were wrong, you know," Harry said softly. He caressed Severus's cheek. "I did help."

"Yes," Severus admitted. Never had he imagined such comfort could be found in being entirely and completely wrong. But as he succumbed to exhaustion with his Harry by his side, he found he couldn't bring himself to mind.


End file.
